1 Evening. Jerry's place.
Kramer (hurtling into the apartment, twirling around on his right leg, sidling over to 'fridge, taking out a giant container of yogurt): Jerry, you disappeared.
Jerry: For your information, Kramer, if you weren't so engrossed with my 'fridge, you'd know that I was in Israel.
Kramer (doing a double-take, approaching Jerry, as if worriedly imparting a confidence): You know what they say about Israel, Jerry ... They say everyone there is ... a little ... (waving his fingers next to his temples, eyes darting about in terror) ... Oh, mama!
Jerry (didactically): Not everyone, Kramer, not everyone. (Throws a traveling bag on the couch, stashes a paper bag in a drawer.) For example, in a small elevator there I met a cabinet minister by the name of Herzog, or a Herzog by the name of cabinet minister. Nice guy, actually, but a rather high-talker ...
Kramer: Be careful, Jerry, be very careful. I once knew a high-talker car salesman. I hope this minstrel-minister didn't get your John Hancock on anything.
Jerry: The only thing I signed was autographs for the president, the prime minister and half the government.
Kramer: Be careful, Jerry. Before you can say "jambalaya soup," it could turn out that they got you to sign up for volunteer work in the Mossad, confess to an unsolved murder or subjugate yourself to cable TV. (Grimaces.) Jerry, I'm scared!
George (buzzing the intercom): It's George!
Jerry (nonchalantly pressing the buzzer): Kramer, if you saw who is running the show there, you wouldn't be scared even if you were Ahmadinejad. The only thing that's really scary there is that everyone thinks he's a Jewish stand-up comic. From the prime minister down to the last of the entertainers - they all want to prove to you that they are Jerry Seinfeld, too, only with English that wouldn't shame Cuban cigar-rollers.
Kramer (mumbling): Hoochimama.
Jerry: Just to give you an idea, their prime minister reminds me of Kenny Banya and their president could be a stand-in for Uncle Leo.
George (entering, upset): Okay, so now it looks like my folks aren't going to move to Del Boca Vista, after all ...
Kramer (self-righteously scolding him): George, we're talking about something a lot more serious here, something a lot more ... exotic ... than Del Boca Vista. We're talking about Florida from hell, Miami Beach with an army. (As though conveying a terrifying secret, shifting his eyebrows, nodding his head in the direction of Jerry.) Jerry was in Israel, George.
George: Wait a minute! No - don't tell me! Don't tell me! (Flapping his hands above his head, straining to remember, suddenly it comes to him and he blurts out:) Falafel!
Jerry (reflective, to himself): Yeah, that about sums it up.
2 Exterior of Monk's Diner. Cut to interior.
Jerry: And then he also leans toward me and says, "Listen, what did you think of the country? Beautiful, eh?" And then he hits me with the $64-million question: "And falafel - you are already eat?"
Elaine (laughing, shoving Jerry): Get out!!
Jerry: Anyway, I felt like the Bizarro Jerry. Especially when he started to tell me about his plan for a new Middle East and end the conflict on the eve of Annapolis. What can I tell you - the guy has opinions that are a lot more radical and irritating than the Lopper.
Elaine: Who'da believed it? Their president? Shimon Peres?
Jerry: No, the driver who took me to Jerusalem ...
(Jerry and Elaine sit down at a table.)
Jerry: Finally I met with a man in a black T-shirt whose name rhymes with K-Mart, who claimed to be prime minister. And then with President Peres, who invited me to come to Jerusalem, even though we were already in Jerusalem. It reminded me a little of my mother - you know, she always asks me why I don't visit every time I visit. Anyway, in the end the president also leans over and in this very important tone of voice asks me, just like all the interviewers and everyone I met there, "And falafel - you are already eat?"
Elaine (laughing): Oy! My hips hurt already!
George (approaching, sitting down ponderously): I see you two are enjoying yourselves.
Jerry: Not really. I was just telling her about my trip to Israel.
Elaine (turning to George with clenched teeth): A country which, by the way, is a little like you, George: small, neurotic, full of fears, self-centered, insecure ...
George (covering his head with his hands in mock protection): Okay, okay.
Jerry: Self-confidence is one thing they have plenty of there. (Sipping his coffee.) They think they're just like us - in fact, they think we are a branch of theirs. But their problems start the minute they have to talk English. Instantly all their wit vanishes on the way from the brain to the tongue, and all they can say is (gesturing like an orchestra conductor, Elaine joining in and both declaiming:) "And falafel - you are already eat?"
George: I heard that that's why they never have peace there - because all their talks with the Palestinians are in English. And because each side has a vocabulary of about 37 verbs and nouns, they never come up with a more complex thought than they can utter in English. So they never make any progress. For 40 years no one has had a new thought there beyond "atrocities," "occupation" and "terror."
Elaine (looking at him in amazement): How did you get so smart, George? Did you turn into a sexual camel in the desert again?
Kramer (gallopping in, more rattled than usual): Yuk-yuk-yuk ... Has anyone seen Newman?
Jerry (calmly): No, we are the fortunate few.
3 Jerry's place, dimly lit. Sound of a key turning in the latch. Large shadow flits by and hides.
Jerry (frightened): Who's there?
Kramer (from behind Jerry's back, petrified): Jerry, let's get out. I told you not to go and not to sign anything there ... And not to take anything from there ... (Whining) I smell a rat, Jerry ...
Jerry (tough, with intonation of Bogart from "The Maltese Falcon"): I didn't know a rat smelled like amba and pickled cabbage.
(Turns on the light. The character in hiding emits a wail. Quick cut to his face.)
Newman (bent, sweating, hummus oozing from his lips, crumbs on his chin, a half-eaten falafel in his hand; shyly, embarrassed): Hello, Jerry.
Jerry: Helloooo, Newman.
Kramer (mumbling): The horror - the horror.
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